


Distraction

by PrincessPhoenix



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Consent Issues, Other, dubcon, ftm!Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessPhoenix/pseuds/PrincessPhoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott is sent home after being recruited by Deucalion, and finds Peter sitting in Scott's mother's bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

Scott paces in his empty, empty house, sometimes looking into his mom’s room. She left in a hurry because of the storm, and her bed is a mess. He stands in the doorway, wondering if he should clean, looking around at the strewn clothes and the sheets in disarray. He bites his lip and steps into the room, clenching his fists and feeling the blood drip down his arm onto the floor. He releases his hands and the wounds heal as he blinks.

_Go home, Scott. I’ll call you when I need you._

After that, Scott had not heard from Deucalion for a couple of hours. Scott still glances at the clock and time slips away from him as he walks along the house. Isaac is still gone, and Scott wonders where he is. Then Scott remembers that his mom is missing and his world crashes around him and it is all he can do to not cry or throw himself against the wall.

He sinks to his feet and gathers his mom’s pants, placing them in the hamper. His movements take minutes to complete, picking up and placing clothes in the hamper. His head sinks lower and lower to his chest as he moves and he pauses to wipe his eyes when he can. He looks down at the blood marks and shuffles into the kitchen. He finds the carpet cleaner where his mom says it would always be and he bites his lip hard enough to taste blood.

“You’re supposed to be here too, Mom,” he says to the carpet cleaner. The bright colors assault his eyes and he shuffles up the stairs and through the empty halls back to his mother’s room.

He wishes he could be surprised to see a Hale sitting there, and he wishes he could be even more surprised that it’s Peter. He ignores him and goes down on his hands and knees, spraying the carpet cleaner.

“What are you doing?” Peter asks.

“I got blood on her carpet,” Scott says. “She likes her carpet clean.”

Peter shifts on the bed. “Not that I mind you on your hands and knees, Scott,” and it is clear to Scott that Peter is speaking the truth. The blue eyes run over Scott, lingering over each inch, and Scott shudders. “I do have to ask why you would, though. Why would you even bother?”

“She’s alive,” Scott says, baring his teeth at the ground. The stain spreads, and his eyesight wavers. He wipes his eyes and continues to scrub.

“Is she?” Peter asks softly.

“Yes.”

There is a stony silence as Scott scrubs and scrubs and watches the stain spread further. Peter shifts again and stands, taking the few steps to stand before Scott. Scott looks up at the former alpha, baring his teeth, knowing his eyes are flashing golden.

“What do you want?” Scott leans back on his knees, and Peter crouches down.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Peter says and holds out a hand. Scott stiffens and Peter scowls. “Do you want the stains out or not?”

Scott bares his teeth and his hand inches forward, dropping the cloth into Peter’s hand. Peter smirks and reaches for the bottle and, yes, his fingers are definitely lingering for far too long. Scott snatches his hand away and Peter lets out a chuckle.

“Sit on the bed and don’t make anymore of a mess,” Peter orders and Scott is halfway to the bed before he remembers that Peter isn’t an alpha anymore. He stops and glares at Peter, who lifts an eyebrow. Scott collapses onto the bed and draws his feet up to the mattress. Peter sprays the stain until the cleaner covers the stain. With a few wipes, Peter wipes the blood away and leans back to admire the carpet.

“Your mother has great taste,” Peter says. “Very good taste. Of course, I knew that already,” he grins at Scott. “She did go out on a date with me.”

“So that you could get to me,” Scott points out. “Like you’re trying to do now.”

“Trying?” Peter’s grin is sharp and he moves too quickly, one hand on Scott’s chest, the other on the bed, knee in between Scott’s legs. “I think I am, Scott.” Scott’s lungs burn as Peter lifts a hand to run claws down Scott’s cheek, his neck, resting at the base of it. “My little beta grew up,” Peter breathes. “An alpha. Not only an alpha, but a true alpha.” Peter smirks. “I knew there was something in you.”

“Like hell you did,” Scott says. Peter’s hand circles around to the back of Scott’s neck, his body pressing forward. Scott snarls and jerks away, rolling out from under Peter and heading to the stain. It is gone, and he bends down to wipe away the excess cleaner while Peter watches from the bed where he sits cross-legged.

“Get off my mom’s bed,” Scott says.

“Make me,” Peter says. “You’re going to be an alpha, aren’t you?” He tilts his head back and Scott growls at the challenge in those icy blue eyes. “Make me get off. Make me leave.”

Scott puts his head down and ignores Peter, going about cleaning up this mother’s room. Peter’s eyes follow him, looking up and down Scott, and if Scott mistakenly passes by too close Peter’s fingers will steal a caress. The former alpha—and why does Scott’s brain rebel trying to refer to Peter as anything else—will not leave.

“Shouldn’t you be with Cora and Derek?” Scott asks at last, throwing down his bundle of clothing. Peter raises an eyebrow.

“That doesn’t seem like it’ll help,” he says, standing and taking the clothes. Before Scott says anything Peter places them into the hamper and looks around the room. “It’s still a mess,” he says. Scott scowls and folds him arms.

“Why are you here?” Scott asks. Peter’s smirk slides away and he looks Scott over.

“Why did you save me?” Peter asks. Scott blinks, jaw slackening.

“What?” Scott asks.

“Why,” Peter begins as he moves closer, back into Scott’s personal space, and so close Scott can feel Peter’s breath on the top of his head. “Why did you take the time to bring me to the ambulance when you could have just left me?”

Scott clenches his jaw and glares upward. “It wouldn’t have been right,” he says with a shrug. “I’m not you, or Derek, or Deucalion. I’m not going to just let someone die.”

Peter nods, stepping forward and Scott steps back, back into the wall. Peter’s expression shifts and Scott feels something settle in his stomach as Peter pressed their bodies together. Scott fights for breath as Peter’s smirk grows and his hands press against Scott’s chest. Scott pushes back, growling.

“Peter,” he says, “my mom is missing. She’s going to be a sacrifice. I have more things to worry about than you, so can you control yourself and just leave me alone?” He pushes again and this time Peter resists, grabbing Scott’s hands and pinning them above Scott’s head.

“Can you do anything about it?” Peter asks.

“No,” Scott says. “I mean, yes! I’m doing something!”

“What are you doing? Cleaning?” Peter raises an eyebrow. “If you can’t do anything about it, put it out of your mind until you can.” Scott growls and Peter’s hands tighten. “You’re going to kill yourself if you worry like this.”

“Stop pretending like you care!” Scott says, wrenching his hands free. “Stop acting like you want to help me! Stop acting like everything you’re doing is for my benefit, when in reality all you want is to control me just like everyone else does!” He pushes and from Peter’s sudden yielding, Scott knows that his eyes are red. He sits on the bed and buries his face in his hands and begins to sob.

The tears fall, pooling between his fingertips, and Scott gulps for air. There is a pause and a rustling of fabric before Peter’s hand is on his back, rubbing up and down. Scott tenses, but the motion is soothing and Scott slumps into it, almost too tired to care. Peter pulls Scott close, into his arms, into his lap, and Scott’s forehead rests right in the crook of Peter’s neck.

The sobs come easier because even if it’s Peter, it’s someone comforting and warm and Peter’s arms are strong. His hands are firm as he runs them up and down Scott’s back, tangles them in Scott’s hair, lips trailing along Scott’s neck, and Scott clutches at Peter’s shoulders. Peter shifts Scott so Scott straddles his hips and presses their lips together.

Scott knows that they should leave his mother’s bed, her room, but Peter’s lips are experienced and insistent and Scott has already made a concession today, what is another one? Peter’s hands slip under Scott’s pants, grasp Scott’s ass and pulls Scott closer and closer. Scott whimpers, and Peter scrapes teeth over Scott’s neck. He stops, pulls his face away, and Scott blinks.

“What do you want, Scott?” Peter asks, and Scott feels his resolve sinking and disappearing. He’s tired, and when Peter runs a thumb under his eye, Scott knows he has lost. He is just so tired of being strong.

“Please,” he says in a pleading tone he knows Peter will love. “Just make it easier to bear,” he begs and Peter’s eyes darken.

“Anything I want?” Peter asks, and Scott hesitates. His hands are on Peter’s shoulder, and Peter’s lips are on his neck without waiting for an answer, and the lips are hungry and insistent. Scott resists, and Peter adds his tongue and Scott is mollified.

“Anything,” he agrees, and Peter pins Scott to the bed with a grin.

“Good,” he says. Peter kisses Scott wordless. His fingers are long and probing as they slip into Scott’s ass, and Peter rubs their fronts together. Scott tilts his neck back and Peter takes advantage of it, his tongue and lips marking. There is a snarl as Peter watches the marks disappear before going to add them again, and again. He is almost too eager to rip the clothes off of Scott and lick up from Scott’s abs.

Scott bucks and Peter keeps him down with a hand, nuzzling Scott’s chest, his neck, kissing him eagerly.

Peter plants kisses down Scott’s middle, pausing at Scott’s entrance. He looks up and smirks. “Beg,” he whispers. Scott tenses, and Peter runs a teasing lick up both of Scott’s inner thighs. “Beg, true alpha. Beg the one who made you.”

Scott resists the urge to tear at the bed, wonders guiltily if his mom will be able to smell the scent of sex and fear and tears, will be able to see the blood despite the way Peter cleaned it. He looks at Peter and pushes his hips upward and down, biting his lip to keep the words from spilling out of him. When Peter slips two fingers inside, eyebrows raised mockingly, Scott gives.

“Please,” he begs. “Please, please, just do it, now here—“ Peter cuts him off with his tongue and Scott’s eyes close as the waves of pleasure assault him. He does not know how many times Peter has down this, has pressed his face deeper as if trying to merge, or even how Peter knows exactly what he wants. But Peter’s tongue moves in slow, lazy circles with a flicking motion and Scott lets out a strangled yell as his pleasure builds.

All too soon Peter is gone and Scott is lost in a hazy, confused state. He can feel Peter’s lips on his, can taste himself on Peter’s tongue, but the denied pleasure is aching and he tries to create friction, to create something, anything.

“I say mine,” Peter says, and sinks into Scott. Scott moans, jerking his hips up and down as Peter settles on a tortuously slow rhythm.

“Mine,” Peter hisses, and kisses Scott until Scott feels like the air is stolen from his lungs. “Not Deucalion’s, but mine.”

Scott’s phone buzzes as Peter comes inside of him, head thrown back and mouth open. As Peter collapses into nuzzling, waiting for the knot to loosen, Scott checks his phone.

“Need you,” he murmurs to Peter. “Found your mother.”

“What did I tell you?” Peter asks. “All you needed was a distraction.”


End file.
